Hold Me Close
by alwayssmile877
Summary: You never want out of a lie until you are too far in. A story of love, adventure, and a mixture of the optimisim of romance versus the harsh reminders of reality.
1. Scare

**Hello all, well, I really did have quite a nice break from FanFiction, but its time to get back to writing. Okay, I was totally in a writing mood, so I started this. It is another 'AU' story, though it isn't RoryXCassie. I also am going to continue 'When the End Comes' and there should be an update by tomorrow on that. But please do take the time to read this, I hope that you do enjoy and review. (Kira is pronounced k-ear-uh, for those silly people who didnt know).**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Twilight, New Moon, or any of Stephenie Meyer's fabulous ideas!**

_ Prologue_

I wasn't able to explain exactly how I had gotten into this situation. It was so far out of anything that was remotely likely to happen, but somehow I had fallen in love. But I wasn't a 'no-strings attached' kind of love. This love was deadly.

But for this boy, it was worth it.

---

_ Scare_

I stood in my room looking around. It was somewhat bland, its cream walls adorned with colored Christmas tree lights and a bulletin board covered with phone numbers, pictures, clothes, drawings, and other random things. My disheveled bed had light spread out across it, in a great arc, due to my open curtains. I looked out my window to the kids in the street playing baseball.

The cul-de-sac that we lived in was inhabited by 5 houses of elderly people and one house that were full of kids who were adopted. Most of them were about 10 or younger.

I turned around and kicked at a pile of clothing, revealing my radio. I bent over to turn it on, but was stopped by the sound of the glass of my window breaking; sending gloriously glittery ribbons of splintered deathly sharp shards of glass strewn across my floor and bed.

I stood still, a quizzical look bestowed upon my face. It wasn't one of anger, more of hilarity. But perhaps that was because that was the pointing which my insanity started; for none of what successes this, would I ever be able to truly reconcile with myself. It was all too surreal, the things that happened in movies or novels.

A banging erupted at my door, I walked in an almost dream like state, a slight smile resting upon my raspberry lips. I opened the door, my mother stood; her hands on her small hips, she was about the same height as me maybe and inch or two taller, with a few wrinkles, and deep brown hair.

"Kira! What was that?" she demanded.

"Oh, a baseball just came through, my window, nothing big." I said watching the look of horror spread across her face.

"A what?!? Who-" she started, anger emanating from her skin, almost transforming her before my eyes, a dark crease forming above her brow.

It wasn't something too unusual, it occurred about once a day mostly erupting from the fights that my mother and I had.

There was an incessant ringing from the door, to which my mother stopped and turned, she walked down the stairs and I peeked around the wall to see my small neighbor standing. His feet were placed in an awkward position, his hands behind his back, with his head bent.

I ducked back around the corner and into my room, making sure to close the door behind me. I bent over, turning my radio on and grabbed the trash bin from under my desk.

I heard the door shut down stairs and a pang of pity rang in my stomach for the kid. I was sure that my mother had gotten him to have his mother pay for the window and probably given him such a guilt trip that he volunteered to give her his allowance for the next three months.

I started to collect the bigger pieces of glass from the floor, being careful to not step on any.

That was just how my mother was, we lived in a big house that we only were able to pay for because back when my parents were young, my dad a very successful and rising lawyer, had gotten married without any type of prenuptial. Then my father had been caught in a rather large drug scandal, my mother had divorced him and taken him for most of his money.

But in some odd way I was closer to him than my mother in any way, I only spent Wednesdays and Thursdays with him though. He lived across town in the nice but still not amazing part of North Haven, New York; whereas my mother and I resided in the more upper class area.

A warm but steadily cooling breeze blew in; a characteristic mid to late April.

When I was satisfied with the amount of glass I had picked up, I walked out of my room and downstairs. My mother was sitting on a stool next to the kitchen island. She was reading the mail, a few discarded envelopes that read 'Kate Morlin' in elegant script.

"Hey," I said, pulling myself up onto the cold marble counter. My mother looked up.

"Sit up straight." She said before looking back to her mail. I sighed quietly and pulled my shoulders back.

"I picked up all of the glass on my floor," I said absently staring out the window to the backyard, the light continually dimming. My mom looked up again, and I turned my eyes to look at hers.

Her brown eyes were like deep orbs. I wanted to say that they looked wise, but it was more 'smart'. They looked like she was the type of person, when she was young, who debated with the teacher; a trait I had inherited from her, though my eyes were mostly green with flecks of amber and blue, which classified them as the forgotten color of hazel.

"Donna is going to pay for the window, plus one hundred for it happening in the first place." She smiled a bright smile.

"cool." I responded in a monotone, "Err, where exactly am I going to sleep tonight?"

She looked quizzically at me then around the room, like a new room would suddenly pop up out of nowhere. Then her eyes flashed with realization.

"Why don't you sleep in your 'secret room'?" She said.

My 'secret room' had been a playroom when I was younger, then transformed into a 'teen room' when I grew older where my best friends and I would escape to hang out, sleep over, and talk. Its contents were an old extremely comfy futon, a bean bag, and a computer, along with a small balcony. But at 17 ½ I didn't use it all that often, in fact the last time I had even been inside it was a month and a half ago, when we had done a spring cleaning.

It was called the 'secret room' because when I was young I always had had trouble finding it, along with most people. You could see the balcony from the backyard, but it was down the hall from my room and in the hall bathroom there was a shorter than normal door which you would think would be a cabinet full of towels, but actually led into the 'secret room'.

I shrugged and hopped off the counter. I let my feet tread against the beige carpet as I headed up the stairs. I opened the door to my room; it was already considerably colder than the rest of the house which was closed to the dropping temperature of the outdoors. I pulled my comforter and pillow off of my bed, slinging them over my shoulder. I didn't bother that they dragged against the floor as I walked out of my room, making sure to close the door.

The hallway wasn't too long, though it had 5 doors total. There was the bathroom at the end of the hall, my older sister Janie's room (though she hadn't lived with us for more than 5 years now), my room, my mother's room, and a hall closet.

As I pushed through the small bathroom cabinet/door into the room I would be staying in for the night, I had to struggle to bring the blanket and pillow through. But once I had dropped the bedding onto the futon I relaxed.

The room looked the same as always, its walls were an unusual reddish hue, a summer project that my best friend Alana and I had done a few years back before she moved to Canada.

I stepped to the French glass door and out onto the balcony. I admired the prim lawn below, a sudden urge to go onto my trampoline. I moved back out of the room and the bathroom and into the hall, I skipped back down the stairs and through the kitchen where my mother still sat stationary. I opened the back door and stepped out onto the lawn.

I quickly took off my flip-flops and let my bare feet be tickled by the grass as I walked lazily, thankful for my black sweats warming my legs, though my turquoise t-shirt wasn't doing much. I rubbed my hands against my arms in an attempt to keep myself warm.

As I stood next to the trampoline I grabbed the cold metal railing and pulled myself up onto the black stretchy tarp, eager to let go. I stood up and jumped a bit.

I loved the feeling of this it was like I was flying, like I was free. But soon I tired, and I let myself fall on to my back.

I could hear my heart beating incessantly, and loudly. I pulled my arms up and placed them under my head, letting myself watch the darkening sky and count the stars as they appeared. Eventually I let myself close my eyes to think.

I was glad that it was Friday. Though I knew that I should probably be out with my friends. I imagined them out partying at Leland's, that's where they said that they would be. But I had chosen to skip out, for some odd reason. I imagined James sitting with Casey, and jealousy flashed through me.

James was by far the best out of all of my friends and I had secretly held a crush on him since the day we met. Whereas Casey, was that girl that all cliques have. The girl that the other girls only keep around so they have someone to bad mouth. But all of the guys in our group were completely oblivious to this.

I was imagining that James was here there me when I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up some time later in the dark of night, goose bumps form the cold had spread across and down my arms. I rolled over leaving the semi-warm spot that I had created and immediately shot up into a sitting position.

I closed my eyes and yawned silently, before going on to all fours and crawling to the edge of the trampoline, not trusting my half asleep legs to support me. My dark brown hair swayed in front of my face and I watched my pale hands as I slowly made my way to the edge.

I swung my legs over the freezing bar and right before I was about to hop off, I hand that was equally as cold as the metal beneath me grasped my wrist, fitting around it in a perfect strong hold.

My heart constricted and a quick exhale left me breathless and unable to scream. I turned with extreme apathy.

I was met with an ever so handsome face, that caused me to let my guard down, it was a boy around my age, his skin paler than even mine that was whiter from the cold. But what pushed me back to my up-tight manner were his eyes. They were a deep blood red.

And I was almost sure that this would be the end, then end of everything. But what he said next was what surprised me.

**It would be fabulous if you reviewed, because it is very scary starting a new story, and all criticism is welcomed, its what makes a story good! I am also looking for a beta for this story, so if you would like to, you can tell me in the review! i have pictures of Kira and her house in my profile,more will be added as the story goes on.**

**-Mel (alwayssmile877)**


	2. A Night to Remember

**Thank you all sooo much for the reviews, it felt so good to get that many reviews on starting a story that wasn't even Edward/ Bella. If I didn't reply, I'm sorry, I meant to. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Twilight, New Moon, or any of Stephenie Meyer's fabulous ideas!**

_A Night to Remember_

"Please, please, help me!" he whispered urgently. His voice was beautiful, that of which you imagine only in fairy tales; smooth and deep. He looked quite sincere, but my heart still thudded loudly.

From what I could see in the dark he was the most handsome person I had ever come in contact with or even seen. He had what my mother would call 'prefect bone structure', and he had the type of hair that looked amazing no matter what he did to it. It was dark brown, about the same as mine, but maybe a bit darker. I could tell he was strong by the grip he held my wrist.

But his eyes were still what kept me rapt with attention.

I had caught my breath by now, and I knew I should scream. But for some reason I didn't, I had a ludicrous notion that this was where I needed to be. I guess I was a strong believer in fate.

"W-what is wrong?" I asked a shiver from not only the cold of outside but his frigid hand, rolled down the contour of my body. I knew that as soon as he let go, my wrist would feel as if I were running it under warm water, due merely to the air being warmer.

"Everything." He shuddered as he let the word escape him, as if recalling a bad memory.

"What's your name?" I asked. The more I talked the better I felt, a wave of calm was actually starting to rest upon me. But my idiocy wasn't to a point where I would completely trust him. I just knew if I kept him talking the longer I was likely to live.

"Patrick…" he let his voice fade off, and I saw his jaw clench and unclench. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Kira." I said starting to devise a plan. "How old are you?" I asked.

"18" he said.

"I'm 17 ½, so we're quite alike." I piped in, in an attempt to get him to trust me. "Why don't you just let go of my wrist now." I suggested, and I knew that it came out with a slight edge of hysteria.

A booming growl emanated from somewhere in his chest, and scared me to a point in which I knew that any plan I had earlier had was foiled. We sat silently for what felt like hours, but I was sure that my internal clock was just being manipulated by the adrenaline pulsing through my body.

"I-I'm sorry, I promise I won't-" he stopped as if he was ashamed and then rephrased his sentence, but with a noticeable difference. "I promise I'll _try_ not to hurt you." I stayed silent.

"What do you mean try?" I asked the fear now evident in my voice.

I re-assed my situation, things didn't look good. I felt like he could easily turn the bones of my wrist to powder.

"I asked someone to help me before, and they tried to run away…and…it was an accident! I didn't…I didn't mean to…to…kill him." Patrick finished. I just sat still. My eyes were fully adjusted to the dark. I could see the intensity of his stare. I felt the wind's breeze blow wisps of my hair around and in front of my face. I wanted to move them but I was petrified.

And that was when the tears started to leak from my eyes. They ran fast down my face into the crease of my nose then trembling on the edge of my lip. They dropped quickly and left the wet streaks to be chilled by the wind.

"Oh," he let the word slip from his mouth. It hung in the air, almost like an aroma. "Please, don't cry." He said lifting his hand and wiping the tears from my face in which I cowered back. "Just please trust me, I don't want to hurt you." He said.

"Then you don't have to." I said my voice cracking. I had been trying to hide my true feelings before, which was something that they taught you in self-defense at school, never let your attacker see you are afraid. But of course I couldn't remember anything else.

"I'm trying." He said. "Its just you smell so good." He said.

"Then maybe you should stop inhaling through your nose." I said. This would normally have come out in a sarcastic manner, but now it was serious.

"I can try." He said. And to me it looked like he actually had, but that could have been my imagination.

"So," I said struggling to regain my calm. "Just tell me what you need me to help you with," I said, deciding that helping would leave me with my best chance of survival.

"I just need someone to help me understand what is happening to me." he said looking down. A shiver ran down my body, and my teeth were starting to chatter, though I kept them clamped has hard as I could. "You're cold," Patrick said.

In any normal situation I would reply saying something like 'no shit Sherlock' but this wasn't any normal situation, so I merely nodded.

"Why don't we go inside?" He said. And I looked at him like he was as crazy as I thought he might be. Why would I let him in my house?

"I don't think that is a good idea." I said.

"Perhaps, but I would rather you not get hypothermia." He said. For a crazy person he was awful caring. He stood up pulling me with him. We were both standing on the trampoline, its stretchy black material giving beneath us. But before I could try and do anything to get away I was being pulled into his arms, and the level at which we were, was changing.

I heard him hit the grass with a bit of a rustle and a thud, but after that I just had the sensation that I had jumped from a high height and left my stomach behind. For the next thing I knew we were up onto the balcony next to the 'secret room'.

"W-what happened?" I said. He placed me back on my feet, though I immediately crumpled to the ground. Patrick reached back down to me like he was going pick me up again, but I dug my heels against the cement pushing myself backwards and up to the railing.

He let his head drop.

"I'm not exactly sure what is going on," he said. "But, please come inside," he pleaded with me softly, opening the door. I got up of my own accord and moved inside only because I knew that I was starting to freeze and that now that we were up here, he could go inside anyway, so it didn't make much of a difference.

I walked inside and the carpet felt lush against my raw feet, and the heat flushed my skin. The futon looked as if it was calling my name. But Patrick sat on it and honestly, I was too afraid to sit next to him. So I settled for the bean bag, letting myself slip into its depths.

Patrick looked even more stunning now, the moonlight hitting him so that his intense stare bore into my own with a new vigor.

"So," I started, feeling more like a therapist being held captive than anything else. "Would you like to explain to me what is going on?"

"I- I'm a vampire," he stated plainly. At this point I was sure that he was crazy, perhaps some raving lunatic. For I had long ago stopped believing in ghost stories. Though I was pretty sure what had scared me more were Psychos grabbing my ankles from underneath my bed.

My throat clenched, and a nervous feeling above my navel ran through me.

"And what makes you say that?" I inquired; my fingers clamped around a piece of the fabric and started to pick at the seams.

"You don't believe me." The knowing fashion in which he said the words irked me. I studied him for a moment or two, deciding on how to reply.

"No." I said taking my chances. He nodded silently. I pushed my fingernail against the thick cotton particularly hard, and it made a small tearing noise. I didn't dare move my hand or my head to survey the damage I had done to the seat.

His eyes had flicked from my own, to where my hand lay, limp against the cushioning seat.

"Well, why not?" he said and I almost sensed a bit of anger.

"Why should I?" I answered his question with one of my own.

"I'm not sure." His face fell into a down trodden grimace as he spoke the words. "Maybe I'm just some insane ward escapee, and I don't know it." He said more to himself than to me. "Should you take me to the hospital?" he asked looking up to me.

His words struck me off center. Normally crazy people weren't aware that they were crazy, thinking only that those around them were.

I removed the hand that had punctured the bean bag in an attempt to clasp my hands together. But the small plastic beads spilled over my lap until I stood up and readjusted the seat so the open section was propped upward as opposed to pointing down whereas the beans would once again begin to fall and scatter to the floor.

I stood awkwardly like I would if I were I visitor in someone else's house, unsure of what to do. I took slow careful steps towards the futon, meeting Patrick's gaze a few times as if to silently converse that I was planning to come and sit next to him.

As I sat down an ample distance from him, I realized how feeble I felt next to him. My whole body was in a sense slimmer, smaller, more fragile. He sat next to me, his shoulders some what hunched, and his feet apart with his elbows resting against his thighs. He turned his head to me, and once again emitting the power of his eyes.

"Are you starting to trust me more?" he questioned as though he didn't believe the words himself. "You sat next to me."

I thought it over. Did I? Or was I suicidal? Definitely not the ladder. But I couldn't truly know, possibly I had just been too lazy or tired to sit on the ground.

"I'm not sure." I responded, vocalizing my thoughts.

"I guess it's better than a no." Patrick stated.

"So, why don't you just explain to me your story?" I said. "Then, maybe I can help you." He nodded in agreement before starting.

"It was about three or four days ago, maybe even five. I was walking home from my after school job, and then, I don't know. I guess I was ambushed. All I remember was everything starting to go in and out of light. And pain. It hurt like hell. Possibly worse." He paused lost in memories. "It was like my blood had turned to magma and was burning my insides, but I wouldn't die. It was at least three days like that."

He looked at me for reassurance and I nodded for him to continue.

"The pain started to dwindle, until finally it was gone, I opened my eyes and sat up. I wasn't where I had been before. I was lying on grass, and it was dark outside. A woman was standing over me. She had blonde hair that fell about to her shoulders, and red eyes. Very red eyes." He said as though he was scared.

I wondered if he knew that his own were most likely matching to hers.

"She was who told me what I was. Of course, I didn't believe her at first, as I'm sure you don't believe me now." His voice quavered. "But she showed me that she wasn't lying. And then…then I ran. I tried to find help. I couldn't be going crazy.

"That was when I ran into the first man. I tried to get him to help me and he ran, I caught up to him in an inhumanly speed, and I tried to grab his wrist, but I guess I broke it. And then he was screaming and he dropped to the ground. I don't remember much after that, I think it's because I made a point to try and block it out. But I remember going to his level, I broke his neck to stop the screaming. It was so easy really. It barely felt like I had moved him. But I know I lowered my head to his neck, and I bit it. And…"

"And what?" I asked feeling true sympathy for him. Not a trace of fear was left in me, which was actually the opposite of what my reaction should have been. I had my head inclined toward him, my body tilted at a funny angle.

"I know that I drank his blood." My own mouth puckered at the idea. "It wasn't even disgusting; in fact it was as if I was drinking the most delicious thing ever to be invented." He stopped himself appalled by his own words.

He shook his head as if to rid an image from his head before continuing.

"Then, as I stared at his lifeless body, I knew I couldn't leave it there. So I pulled him to a lake, and threw him in, I know that they'll find him. He'll float up eventually. But I couldn't just leave him there. But I was still so sure I was crazy. So I continued to search for someone who was still up and out. I knew very well I couldn't just take someone out of their house. But I saw you and I figured that you weren't actually inside, and I saw you wake up, and it was just perfect timing." He ended.

As I listened to his story, a lump grew in my throat. But the scariest part was that I believed him. Just one thing.

"If you're a vampire wouldn't you have fangs?" I said calculatingly.

"You would think so," Patrick began again. "That's the first thing I said to the woman who found me, she said it was all wise-tale."

I stood feeling like I was the bringer of bad news, but his mention of this mysterious woman had reminded me. I reached out to take one of his hands, amazed by my own confidence. He took my small hand within his larger one, and he stood. I started to move as quietly as I could, taking him with me to the door to the bathroom, he was so quiet. I would have had to look behind me to check that he was still there if I hadn't been holding his hand.

I pushed open the door and it squeaked on its hinges. I stood stock still waiting to hear my mother. Nothing. I continued my advance towards the mirror. As soon as we were in front of it, shock crossed his face.

I watched him blink a few times then shake his head, before , moving centimeters away from the mirror to further examine his reflection.

I crossed my arms in a nervous gesture, hoping against hope that I was imagining the rustling of the carpet down the hall. Once he straightened back up I saw that he was quite a bit taller than my own 5'5" stature. I guessed around 5'12" or 6'0".

I ushered him back into my room, which was actually considerably cooler than the bathroom. I let myself fall back onto the futon. Though sleep had evaded me while he was telling his story it was now coming back with a vengeance. I felt the mattress that I rested on move as Patrick sat down. I pulled myself up into a sitting position so I didn't seem impolite.

"It's okay. You can sleep." Patrick said, surprising me. "It is late, or rather early." His voice, though I was aware he was merely talking, felt like a lullaby. I felt my heavy lids fall and worked to keep them open.

"Um," Not sure how to put my next words into a way that they weren't rude, I began carefully. "Where are you going to go?"

"I'm not sure; I don't really have a place to go." He said solemnly. I was itching to sleep and ready to just tell him to spend the night.

"What about your parents, I'm sure they're worried about you." I recommended. He looked down ashamed.

"I can't." He simply said.

"Why not?" I asked almost in a groan.

"Because they'll notice the difference in me, I look almost completely different anyways I have no idea of getting there seeing as I have no idea of where I am."

"You're in New Haven, New York." I told him.

"Anyways, I wasn't really supposed to tell anyone what I am now." He said, and I immediately perked. What was that meant to mean, would he have to get rid of me?

"Oh…" my voice trailed off.

"So I guess I shouldn't really leave you, I don't want someone to find out that I told you." He said decisively. My eyebrows rose at this unexpected response. And at it I felt like it was my responsibility to invite him to stay and I was also semi-confident that he would anyway at the certainty of his words.

I looked out the glass doors and could see the slightest of paling in the sky, a sure sign of the oncoming dawn, possibly showing the time being around four.

"How about you stay here tonight." I said. "You can have the futon." I said slowly rolling off towards the edge in a lazy attempt to move. He touched my shoulder and I stopped my wriggling, my heartbeat quickening.

"You can stay there. I'll sleep on the floor." He generously offered. I was much too tired to say no, so instead I gave him my pillow and one of the blankets. He moved off the bed and I did to, he looked at me oddly, I crossed the room's length in a couple of stumbling steps, and easily turned the metal lock so that I didn't have to fret over my mother coming in.

I walked back to the futon stepping over Patrick and let myself drop into the soft and warm bed, the comforter like a sea of pure bliss and warmth. I pulled my arms up and crossed each over the other, letting my head rest upon them as a makeshift pillow.

"Goodnight, have sweet dreams." I whispered.

"Good night." He said. For a split second panic crossed my mind. I was letting a total stranger sleep in my room, it was about to start over my frenzy of fear before I pushed it out of my mind, and let sleep envelope my tired mind.

But it was barely 10 minutes before I was awoken, though I was sure it had probably been more. An icy cool had settled over the exposed side of my cheek, the side that wasn't pushed up against the hunter green sheet beneath me. My eyes flicked open faster than normal at the realization of who it was.

I looked to the sky out the glass, but it was still a deep purple though hues of pink were weaved in.

"What is it?" I asked embarrassed by the grogginess of my voice, so I cleared it.

"I can't sleep." He said in a terrified whisper.

"What do you mean, you said you've been in pain the last three days and you've been up all night, and how can you not fall asleep." I hissed sharply, before succumbing to my guilt and looking sorry.

"I'm just not tired, and however long I keep my eyes closed I can't fall asleep." He said. I could tell that there must have been something truly wrong, not just him being aggravated. I rolled over pushing myself tight to the wall so I could maintain as much space between him and myself.

"Here, maybe you'll sleep better up here, but keep your own blanket." I tacked on. I felt his weight press upon the bed and gravity edge me closer to him seeing as I was rolling downwards. But that essence of fear kept my clinging to the edge, before I drifted back to sleep I remember him saying one thing that almost startled me out of sleep itself.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Yes." I responded to get him to stop talking.

"You're lying." Patrick's voice was determined, as if he knew, and I was almost sure he did. For that was the truth, I was lying.

Sleep was peaceful, uninterrupted by dreams, or at least ones I could remember. I awoke somewhere in early afternoon or late morning. Rolling over and causing the futon itself to let out a hollow creak. As my eyes opened I found the spot next to me empty.

I wasn't sure whether it had all been a dream, a figment of my imagination or not.

As I pushed my feet over the edge and they made contact with the carpet that now felt raw in comparison to my flannel sheets, my knee's cracked, I moved a bit to where my bean bag sat, inspecting it I noticed that the small hole was still there. I stood puzzled lost in the depths of my own mind.

**There! Now, if you would like an update as quick as this one, I would suggest reviewing, that always makes me more in the mood to write: ) oh and there is a picture of Patrick in my profile.**

**And _princessciara_, it would be great to hear back from you soon!**

**-Mel (alwayssmile877)**


	3. Idle Days

**Sorry it's been awhile since I posted, I actually did have this done, but a whole bunch of stuff happened which conspired against me posting this. I hope you enjoy this, it's more of a 'setting the table' kind of chapter, but I promise, the next one will be juicier! I was only able to post this thanks to Addie W. for her instructions in getting around the stupid rules or whatever.**

**Disclaimer-I do not own Twilight, New Moon, or any of Stephenie Meyer's fabulous ideas!**

_Idle Days_

I walked along flightily, my eyes skimming over the familiar houses, fresh cut lawns, and shrubbery that people had been paid absurd amounts to trim. I was headed toward James' house. My feet hit the ground lightly, probably because of my urgent stride. I was turning over in my head the possibility that everything that I thought had happened last night really had. And whether I should tell James. I had the gut instinct not to. That was probably caused by being told that I shouldn't have even known in the first place.

But nonetheless, I wanted to talk to him. As I approached his house, I could see that his parents weren't home. They always had one of their cars in the driveway when they were home; I guess they thought that the shiny car made them classier.

I walked along the brick pathway that divided the neat lawn. The early afternoon sun beat down against my tank top clad shoulders. I was silently thankful to step on to the veranda and up to the door. But the giant slab of wood with the intricate engravings and dusted glass opened before my finger touched the doorbell, like it did in movies.

James stood, his tan torso bare, and wearing long _Joe Boxer_ PJ pants. The mess of amber colored hair that topped his head in clumps, almost complimented his 'look', I could only chuckle at what the idea of Mrs. Person would say if she knew that James answered the door like this.

"How'd you know I was at the door?" I asked; rising to the best of my ability, one of my eyebrows.

"I could see you from the window." He replied non chalantly.

"Oh, spying on the innocent passer-bys." I said putting my hand against his warm chest and pushing him to the side so I could walk in. the feeling on his smooth flesh under my own, no layers of clothing separating us then, sent a trill though my body. I quickly let my hand drop.

A sweet yet acrid odor filled my nose, and I grimaced. I knew the smell and I also knew that it meant that James' younger sister and one of her friends were here.

"Who's Bridgette with?" I asked referring to James' younger sister again. He shrugged.

I started to climb the stairs and James followed. I had known him and his family since we went to pre-school together, so I didn't really feel obligated to stay down stairs and bother with courtesy questions and show how polite I could be. Both my house and James' house were built with the same structure, meaning the rooms were in the same places.

I pushed open the first door in the hallway to Bridgette's room. As soon as I did the acrid smell of marijuana hit me full force. I coughed once then waved my hand in front of me as if the room were actually smoky. I stuck my head in the room and I saw Bridgette and her friend quickly try and hide the joints. Then Bridgette relaxed.

"It's just Kira." She said.

"Oh so now you don't care if it's 'just me'." I feigned hurt. "Well, whatever. It doesn't matter. But really Bridgette I just popped in to tell you you're stinking up the whole house, and," I put on my motherly voice, "you are ruining your lungs." Then I closed the door.

I could hear Bridgette's friend laugh nervously and ask who I was and if they would be in trouble. But then I turned back and headed back down the hall to James' room.

It was odd to realize that Bridgette wasn't that much younger than us we were juniors and she was a sophomore.

Once inside I dropped onto his bed and let myself fully relax. I heard James also come in, close the door behind him and collapse onto the bed.

I was suddenly brought back to the night earlier. I rolled over on my side, but then sat up.

"How was last night?" I asked.

"It was fine, kind of boring." He responded. "How was _your_ night?" he rebutted. I didn't really know whether to give an honest answer, so I shrugged. "You should have hung with us last night. Becca and her boyfriend got into a huge fight and some people taped it." I moved awkwardly in the space I was confined to, the burgundy down comforter rustled beneath me.

"So…" I said. It was a time filler, something most people said when they had nothing better to do. James' opened his eyes and looked at me from his laying down position.

"Any particular reason you came over or just to be with me in all of my greatness?" he play asked.

"I'd say it was the second, but you aren't all that great." I said, sighing and flicking his forehead with my finger. He chuckled and closed his eyes again.

I let myself fall back against the bed and I ended up falling asleep.

---

"Wake up." James said. It was in the voice that everyone used while talking to a sleeping person. It didn't matter if they were trying to wake them up; it was that hushed nervous tone.

I groaned.

"What?" I said emitting a yawn.

"Come on, my parents invited you to dinner." He said almost laughing and exasperatedly.

"Dinner?!" I said sitting up much too fast, so that I felt dizzy.

"Yea but it isn't until, 5:45." He said. "I just thought that you wouldn't want to look like you just got up."

"What time is it?" I said sitting up a second time, slower.

"Its 4," he said. I got up and walked to his bathroom, not bothering to tell him where I was headed.

My reflection in the mirror was like a bad picture that had been photo-shopped to look even worse. My hair stuck at all angles and it was matted to the back of my head. I had impressions of the crumpled blanket, which my face had been pressed against, in my cheek.

I worked my fingers through my hair a few times until I looked presentable. Then rubbed at my cheeks trying to get the hideous red marks to go away, but to no avail. I retreated back to James' room.

"So how come I don't see you with blankets stamped across your face?" I said knitting my brows. I was rather sarcastic with James, but I knew that this was almost a defense mechanism so I wouldn't worry about him seeing how I really felt about him.

He turned to me and laughed openly. I rolled my eyes and slipped down the hall back to Bridgette's room. I opened the door; it smelled considerably better than it did earlier. I saw a cracked window, the blue sky outside and a wafting breeze.

"You know that we're going to dinner right?" I asked.

She nodded and so did her friend, I looked around her room. It reminded me of my own. Clothes strewn about and an unmade bed.

I closed the door again and walked back to the James. He had changed into some actual clothing. I felt a small whisper of sadness that he was now wearing a shirt, but I pushed it aside in embarrassment.

"So, where are we going?" I asked.

"Some restaurant, nothing too fancy," he said. I was relieved; I didn't feel like walking into a high class restaurant in jeans and an old tank top, bed head still prevalent. James house was mostly hardwood except for his family room. But right now I was standing on half of the rug he had laid down and half of the hardwood. It made me feel a bit taller.

James walked up to me, I knew I was blocking his way out, but I didn't move. He stared down upon as if to impress upon me that he was in fact taller and bigger; totally ruining the moment I had just had where I felt taller.

I pushed myself up onto the balls of my feet and lifted my chin to add an extra inch and a half or so. He smiled and the pushed me lightly, I stumbled back. Then glared playfully. I got up, crossed my arms, and turned my back to him.

"Come on," he groaned. I followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Soon enough his parents arrived. They drove us to a restaurant that was tucked back beneath an array of random stores. It was Italian and delicious. I ordered the best pizza that I was sure I had ever had. When they dropped me off later that night, I was sad I had to go. But in remembrance my mood lifted. Would Patrick come back tonight? Did I want him to come back tonight?

---

I walked into the house. It was quiet. I rounded the corner into the kitchen. My mother wasn't there, but a note was on the fridge. The tile chilled the bottoms of my feet, and I could make out the distinction of each tile by the rough grout. The yellow of the post-it stuck out against the stainless steel.

_Kira,_

_I'm out with Susan. I have my cell phone on. Call me if you need me._

_-Kate Morlin (Mom)_

I thought it was unusual that she had to put 'mom' in parenthesis. As if I didn't know who she was. I looked outside. It was already dark the trampoline was impossible to see. I could barely make out the hunter green tint of the grass in the midst of the night.

I walked back up the stairs. I was feeling a bit of disappointment, which confused me. Why should I feel disappointed that the psycho that was with me last night hasn't come back? I should feel relieved.

The stairs felt longer than they normally did, as I pushed one leg after the other up them. I sat down at the top step. Too lazy to really do all the way to my room, until I started to wonder if my window had been fixed. As I opened my door, I saw that it had. I walked in and sat on my bed. I picked a book up from my nightstand and rested into a comfortable position.

It wasn't until I looked at my clock that I raised. It read 12:32 AM. I put my book down. I wasn't surprised that I hadn't fallen asleep or felt the slightest inkling of exhaustion. I didn't sleep well that often. But tonight especially, my senses themselves felt heightened.

I started to walk out of my room. Not even sure what I was doing. But I felt like I was supposed to. My mother hadn't gotten home yet so I didn't worry about being quiet. I walked to the end of the hall and entered the bathroom. I was careful to stay on the rug across the floor so that I didn't have to take the freezing electric shock of touching it. I pushed open the door to the 'secret room' and ducked inside.

At first I saw nothing. And my face twisted into a confused scrunch. But then I did see something, someone, Patrick.

He stood outside on the small balcony, leaning against the railing. And my god, he looked gorgeous. I started to walk to the door to open it and let him in, but then came to my senses.

_What the hell was I about to do? Let this guy into my house just because he was attractive? He is practically a stalker!_

I stopped right in front of the door.

"What are you doing here?" I asked hoping he could hear me through the thin pane of glass. The moon light hit him so only one side of his face was illuminated; it cast barely visible shadows against his opposite cheek. His hair fell across his forehead and a few wisps obstructed the view of his eyes from me.

"I want to talk," he said. There was a childish light to his expression. I felt as timid as I had last night. Not nearly as adventurous or sarcastic as I was this afternoon. There were honest emotions, coursing through me. And I had no reason to hide them.

"About what?" I asked, my voice trembling. I raised my hand to the glass, and watched as the condensation formed around it. He lifted his own hand and put it against the other side of the glass, though no particles of water formed from heat. This worried me. I reached for the doorknob, unsure.

He hadn't seemed so bad yesterday. He hadn't hurt me. He hadn't hurt my mother; he hadn't even been there when I woke up. Well, that had hurt a bit.

I opened the door and moved a bit to the side. He stood still outside, with an almost astonished look on his face. He stepped forward lightly and into the room. It seemed that he had actually thought that we would have the conversation through a closed door for the entire night.

I turned and started to walk towards the futon. But stopped as the pads of Patrick's fingers rested lightly against my lower back, it sent a small spasm of fear that was over powered by excitement through me. He leaned over my shoulder and close to my ear before murmuring in my ear.

"Thank you."

**There we are! Okay because this chapter was semi-boring the next chapter will be out Saturday or Sunday…IF I get 8 reviews. PLEASE, please review, tell me what you want to see happen and what you don't. All types of criticism are welcomed, it helps the story improve!**

**-Mel (alwayssmile877)**


	4. Trust

**Hey guys! I told you I would have a post by today! I have to give a shout out to my new and second beta; _you really think I'm listening_. You are all awesome and I love you so for reviewing, it would be awesome if you could keep up the great work! **

**Disclaimer-I do not own Twilight, New Moon, or any of Stephenie Meyer's fabulous ideas! **

_Trust_

Patrick's freezing fingers let a shiver pass through me as they connected with the sliver of bare skin, where my pants and shirt didn't connect. My breath hitched, and I was almost sure that I heard Patrick let out a beautiful chuckle, but I couldn't be sure. His voice was so quiet. I took a step forward towards the futon, which unlike yesterday was now vacant of the mounds of blankets.

Patrick's hand left my skin and my breathing became normal again, though I was slightly dissatisfied that the glorious feeling of his precious skin against mine was now gone. I turned to face him. My eyes traveled along his figure. He was wearing the same clothes that he had last night, though I didn't really expect them to be changed. I let my eyes drop to my feet.

I felt his gaze on me; and looked to the side, at the beanbag. I was suppressing the question that was aching in my throat.

"Sorry for just leaving this morning," he said which provoked my burning question even more.

"Where did you go?" I asked, my voice wavering. I felt like I was entitled to the answer though I knew that I wasn't.

"I went to see the woman who changed me," my eyes lit up at his words.

"So you know where she is?" I queried, slightly confused.

"Yes," he stated simply. He sounded ashamed. And his words sent a shock, a spasm of fear down to my toes. Distrust formed in my gut.

"You said you had no where to go. But if you knew where she was then that means you did," I let my foot shift back, my heel hitting the wooden post of the bed, ruining all means of being inconspicuous.

"I know, and I'm sorry," he said, advancing one step closer to regain the same space that had been held between us before I had stepped back. My heart jumped. He had lied before. What if he was lying now; if all of this caring and kindness was a lie, an act?

"B-but you lied," I repeated like a broken record. I knew that I shouldn't be so surprised; people lie all of the time. But I had trusted him so. Believed him in a way that was unhealthy for just meeting someone, especially under the bizarre circumstances that we had.

"Yes, but I was scared. I didn't want to leave. You seemed so nice, so kind, and so caring. And I didn't want to believe what was happening to me. What had already happened. If I went back to that lady I thought that it would be make things too _real,_" he took a second step toward me. He was so close, barely a centimeter of free space remained between our bodies. I stood straight, un-intimidated by his close-ness, which felt unusual for me. I was oddly at ease with him, though I hadn't been just moments before. Even though he had lied to me and for all I knew, he was some crazy person who had escaped from an insane asylum.

The wood and soft cushion of the futon pushed up against the back of my legs. I was sure that my mouth hung slightly open.

"But you did go back," I reminded him. I let myself stare into his eyes. They were truly unique and gorgeous.

"I know," he said stepping back, I inadvertently stepped forward, unsure of my own movements, to regain that same proximity. "I felt guilty for lying to you and I was hoping that I could just leave. I was hoping that you would wake up and figure it was a dream. That I could just not comeback into your life," he laughed at himself like the idea was ludicrous.

"But you did come back tonight," I said, at a loss for finding the humor in the situation.

"Yes, I know. I was a bit tempted to see if you would care," he said. Patrick averted his eyes looking at the bean bag as I had earlier. "And," he continued his eyes not meeting mine. "Lila wants to meet you." Then his eyes locked with my own. They were unreadable. But this wasn't unusual. I found most males unreadable.

"Who's Lila?" I asked, my brow furrowing. I didn't trust him and he wanted me to meet someone else. Someone else who I most likely wouldn't trust either.

"She's the woman who changed me," he said. If he was trying to scare me, he was doing a damn good job.

"And why does she wish to see me?" I asked. He shrugged and walked in a comfortable manner to the desk where my computer was. He ran his finger along the screen and revealed a small line where he had removed the buildup of dust.

"This isn't your room," he stated, ignoring my previous question.

"No, it isn't," I said.

"Would you show me your room?" he asked.

"Would you answer my question?" I said fear arising at his obvious attempt to not answer my question. It irked me beyond belief and let me know that perhaps he didn't want me to know why I was needed to Lila. He turned to me.

"No, but not because I don't want to. More because I don't know. But she demands that she sees you," he said.

Demands? Did that mean I had no choice? It sure sounded that way.

"So, will you show me your room?" he asked again. I didn't give him an answer, but walked toward the door. The cool temperature of the tile floor was only short lived as I walked to the hall; the rug that covered the wood floor was well worn down. Patrick followed me down the hall and to my room. I opened the door and he looked in.

After scanning the room over a few times he turned to me.

"I would have placed you as the girl with a vanity covered with magazines and make-up, not an old movie's girl," he said. I was pleasantly surprised under the layer of fear; that he had cared to look so in-depthly at my room. I guessed that he was referring to the old movies posters that were attached to my bulletin board.

"Well I guess you were wrong," I said curtly, pulling my door shut. I wondered where my mother was and when she would be home. We were silent for a moment. An awkward silence that hung over us, it was palpable and punctuated with nerves.

"We should go," he said.

"Excuse me?" I said abruptly. "Go where?" I demanded.

"To Lila's," Patrick's voice was a bit too even, too calm. Like he thought I would go. Like he knew I would. And honestly I was curious and riddled with the desire to find out more about him and Lila. But if he thought that my intuition would say that it was safe to go, he was sorely mistaken. I wasn't going to go without a struggle of some sort.

"No," I said as if this were a simple matter that needed no more discussion.

"I don't really have a choice here," he said.

"What do you mean, there is always a choice," I prompted.

"Probably, but this one seems best," he said.

"Well I'm not going," I crossed my arms and spoke the words defiantly. He raised an eyebrow, I glared.

With out another word he lifted me over his shoulder in an uncomfortable way, the way my dad used to and say that he had a 'sack of potatoes'. I kicked and screamed, flailing my arms around.

"LET ME DOWN!" I was yelling so loud I couldn't believe that none of our neighbors had come to check on me.

Patrick gave no visible sign that my futile attempts to get him to put me down were working. I started to cry, my muscles aching in protest.

"Please," I said over and over again. He had walked down the stairs and we stood in front of the door that led to the outside. He pulled me back over his shoulder and placed me on my feet while still holding firmly to the sides of my arms. I thrashed my body trying to get loose.

"Shh Shh," he said moving his face close to mine. I eventually did calm, the tears streaking silently down my face. "I'm going to take you to meet Lila, okay?"

I started shaking my head fervently again.

"I won't let anything bad happen to you," he said. I wanted to believe him, I almost did, but reality had a strong hold on my mind. I continued to shake my head, though a bit less violently. "I promise," he said, before slinging me onto his back.

I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. It would be better to hold on then fall off at the speed which he was moving.

I had no inclination of how much time had passed when he stopped moving. I knew that the cold brisk air was biting at my bare face and arms, and that Patrick's stone cold body did nothing to help. He set me on my bare feet.

The cement below was rough, cold and wet, I guessed from dew. I looked around it was a community not unlike the one I lived in; the houses not much smaller, and just as primped. A small breeze pushed past us and my loose shirt flapped against my body.

I felt as if my feet were planted in the cement, impossible roots attaching me to the ground and limiting my movement. Patrick grasped my hand and pulled lightly. I shut my eyes tightly wanting to wake up from this awful dream.

"Come on," Patrick said sweetly. The tears that had started from earlier, but dried in the wind, were starting. I could feel the burning sensation in my eyes. "Don't cry," his words were soft, soothing.

"I'm afraid," I spoke quietly. I hated admitting that I was afraid, it made me feel weak.

"Don't worry I'll protect you," he said. His red eyes met my hazel ones, and I believed him. For the first time I trusted him.

**Okay, sorry if all of the crying annoyed you, but imagine how you would act in the situation. And fear not, happy times are coming and the next chapter should be exciting. I might have it up by tonight or tomorrow depending on the encouragement I get via reviews! **

**-Mel (alwayssmile877) **


	5. Promises & Luck

**One of my best friends' dad just died today. I know that I said I would have an update today, but this is a bit more important. I don't know when the next update will be, hopefully soon, but all of my attention is going to her in her time in need. Please understand.**

**Sincerely,**

**Mel (alwayssmile877)**

**As you can see, I am finally updating, I left that up there just to inform those who didn't know why it took me so long. Alright, this chapter wasn't BETA'd, because I knew that if I waited any longer to get it up, you would all hate me.. This isn't one of my favorite chapters and I don't know why, I know that it is short, so again, please forgive me!**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Twilight, New Moon, or any of Stephenie Meyer's fabulous ideas.**

My feet scathed the ground as I lifted them best I could. It was an effort. Every movement was second guessed, I didn't want to move forward into that house, yet, I wanted to trust Patrick. He said he wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. I ran through the possibilities of what awaited me behind the wooden door, its simplicity and normality unnerving.

My whirling mind was caught off guard as I felt Patrick's hand encase my own. But his fingers lightly caressed my hand, holding it as if it were some priceless fragile jewel. I inhaled deeply through my nose and felt a dizziness overcome my head. I grit my teeth in response and an effort to grasp reality.

The steps to the house were approaching too quickly. They squeaked as my weight pushed against them. Suddenly I felt myself gripping Patrick's hand with more intensity and strength than I thought I had. He raised his free hand and knocked on the door. The noise resonated in my own ear drums, possibly a final hint for me to leave?

The door opened before Patrick's hand had returned to his side. Before me stood the woman whom I presumed to be Lila.

She had tresses of golden hair that reached just past her shoulders. Her skin was abnormally pale, but all of her features seemed perfect. She was symmetrical and had full pink lips. But, like they had on Patrick, her eyes were what had caught my attention; they were the same crimson as the beautiful boy standing next to me.

Her perfect lips twisted into a smile, one that I had only seen portrayed in movies and television shows, though neither of those times had it inspired such a fear. My heart spiked and I winced.

I felt a cool hand touch my back, the glacial feeling permeating my shirt to reach my hot body. The blood flowed under the thin almost translucent layer skin at nearly double the normal speed.

There was a slight push and I found myself walking almost trance like into the house. It looked so normal.

There were no words spoken between anyone. The only acknowledgement of recognition between Patrick and Lila aside from that evil smirk was a curt nod. As I looked around I was confused, there were no bodies, coffins, torture chambers, there was nothing that resembled something I had heard about vampires.

We moved into a prim looking room, there wasn't a thing out of place, the couch was unruffled, a polished coffee table, two chairs, and not a pillow out of place. I was guided to one of the chairs, I took my seat and was grateful for the support under me, and my knees had turned into jelly.

"So," Lila's melodic voice was punctuated by a sinister under current. "You are Kira." It was a statement, too sure and confident to even be mistaken as a question.

"Yes." I said in an attempt to match her strength and assurance and pretend that I wasn't afraid. There was a slight quiver to my voice. Lila raised her eyebrow.

She put her hand on my shoulder and dragged her hand across my collar bone, the pressure that she applied left a bit of a sting in the trail.

"How about I tell you a story" she said, stepping in front of me and obstructing my view of Patrick. I quickly studied her once more; she must be about 33 or 34.

I sat silently, unresponsive, waiting. I could sense movement behind me, Patrick. I though back to the mere minutes earlier, he had promised not to let anything bad happen to me, but could he keep that promise?

"I lived in Missouri before here; well actually it was only a few days ago that I lived I Missouri. But you see, I had a bit of a mistake. I picked off a few too many humans in too close to where I lived. People became suspicious." I made a face at the words she used 'picked off' had particularly offended me. "Oh, not of me being a vampire," she said misreading my look. "No, they were just suspicious of me being some type of killer. You see, normally I am much more discrete. I either move to a different city, or take tourist, I lure them into my home, and the…"he voice trailed I didn't want to know what she did after that. "But recently I have been much too lazy, and there have been no tourists. I know that keeping my secret should be top priority, and I should care more about that than not wanting to leave the town, but we all have our little downfalls, don't we?" the way she made the little joke sent my stomach churning.

"But, I had to leave for good, I made my escape easily, faking my own death and worrying them that one of their own was the killer. So then I traveled here. And on my way I was thinking of a way to keep the same thing from happening, extra precautions. And I decided that I needed someone to pose as my child. And then, as if planned, this young boy," She gestured to Patrick. "Came across my path

"So I changed him, thinking that this would be a great plan. We would move to New York; unassuming, unfriendly, and unnoticing. But then, of course he goes and ruins it, he freaks out, kills someone, leaves them in an all too obvious spot, and then breaks the only rule of being a vampire. He told someone our secret."

Throughout the time she was talking her face had changed into an expression in which her teeth bared in anger, possibly agitation and annoyance.

"I'm sorry." Patrick said from behind me. Why was he saying sorry? It didn't seem right to me. He shouldn't apologize to her; she had completely uprooted and ruined his life.

She didn't respond but gave him some type of look that I didn't quite understand.

I shut my eyes and opened them once more. Her head turned in a swift movement to lock eyes with mine. I was past the point of doubt. I was sure that they were what Patrick claimed to be.

"Have you told anyone?" he voice was steady, and I was sure that no one would even try lying to her.

"No." I said. "Why would I?" she smirked.

"Yes, exactly, why would you. I mean by now I am sure that you have gathered that either of us could kill you in the slightest move." Lila glided around the coffee table and, as to demonstrate, she touched a mirror that hung on the wall. Before applying pressure she looked back and smirked at me. I barely saw her finger flex before the mirror shattered, catching the light from all different angles and reflecting dots of brilliant brightness across the walls.

I sucked back my breath; they could kill me easily. I had guessed that, but this actual display was, eye opening. I grit my teeth silently.

"Now that you have seen how quick and easy this should be, we will try it on you." Lila said quickly, quietly, the non-chalance obvious. My eyes were close to popping out of my head. I opened my mouth to find words, but my dry throat constricted any noise.

Patrick stepped in front of me.

"No." he declared his voice even, strong.

"Excuse me?" Lila said the surprise and amusement palpable.

"I-I" his burst of confidence had been momentary I guessed, but then stronger again. "I promised I wouldn't let anything harm her." He said.

"Well now, you shouldn't make promises you can't keep." She sounded like a mother scolding a small child.

"Can I talk to you in the other room please Lila?" Patrick asked, her eyes flitted to me and then back to Patrick.

"Fine," in turn she looked to me. "Don't even think about moving we will be able to hear." I nodded silently. I was surprised, I had no intention of moving. Wasn't the adrenaline that was now coursing through my body supposed to give me the confidence to try and move? The two of them disappeared through an open door.

I strained my ears to hear, but it was useless. I couldn't even hear the shuffle of there feet.

I looked down to the rug that was centered in the middle of the floor. The furniture rested upon it. It had that 'just vacuumed' look.

I wanted to shift in my seat but the possible squeak of the leather that might cause Lila and Patrick to believe I was trying to escape inhibited me.

A voice suddenly pierced my thoughts, it was Lila's.

"You're lucky, for now." she said, placing a hand on my head. I felt my body go limp and a deep lethargy rush over me. My eyelids drooped and I struggled to keep them open, awake. I felt Patrick lift me into his arms. He and Lila shared a few quick words that I couldn't discern through my haze of sleep, and then he stepped out the door. The cool night air brushed my arms and I let the sleep truly envelope me.

**Alright, there it is, I know it was short, but reviews on what can make it better will help, oh! And the next chapter is going to be happy! I have it halfway written, so review and I will get it up as soon as possible!**

**-Mel (alwayssmile877)**


	6. Perplexed

**DON'T KILL ME!!! I know that I took forever to post this, AND it's short. But I wanted you guys to get something. This chapter was actually supposed to be combined with the next chapter, but I guess I'm just a failure T.T, but I promised that I would review once I got a fair amount of reviews and I got 3! So…there's my excuse! Maybe you guys didn't see it, or maybe you did and just decided to be mean…**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Twilight, New Moon, or any of Stephenie Meyer's fabulous idea's!**

I awoke, but left my eyes closed, I was basking in the warmth provided by the sun that spilled in through the curtain and across my bed. It was afternoon, a particularly hot afternoon too. I shifted, pushing my foot out of the blanket. The plush pillow under my head felt perfect. I tried to remember how I had gotten to my room, but before I could really think much on it, a frigid hand pressed against my leg. My heart spiked in surprise and I immediately shot up in surprise, my eyes found a gorgeous pale skinned, dark haired, crimson eyed boy as the root of my surprise.

"Good morning." Patrick's melodic voice filled my head, I smiled. He didn't lift his hand. I swallowed and waited until I was pretty sure I could speak without embarrassing myself. He sat on the end of my bed, lightly, on the edge, just out of the light's startling intensity.

"Good morning to you too." My stomach clenched in remembrance of last night. I could have been killed. I was almost killed, if it hadn't been for…Patrick. The knot in my stomach loosened and the leg which he was resting his hand upon, surged with heat. Without moving his hand, Patrick stroked my leg with his thumb. A quiet moment passed between us. I was almost confused; I hadn't ever had _this_ kind of relationship with a boy. Sure, I had had boyfriends, but the link I felt that I held with Patrick and the way I was feeling as he touched me, it was _different_.

I reluctantly yet surely, swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I was astounded with my composure after the aforementioned events of the night previous. I was pretty sure it was the presence of the boy who had saved me, that perhaps, when I was alone, not protected by un-invasive sleep, that I would start to cry, or _something. _I just needed something to wake me up. I wasn't really foolish enough to believe this to be a dream, it was all too vivid, but I wanted to; because the peace that I felt for this single moment, was something that, once I was deprived of, I would hunger for once again.

I stood awkwardly, shifting my weight from foot to foot. Patrick stood also, relinquishing the perch he had taken on the edge of my bed. His gaze was indiscernible, caught somewhere between awe and confusion. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing I was.

"I should probably go and check in with my mom, she was probably worried about where I was last night." I said gesturing senselessly out the door with my thumb and taking a half step backwards.

"She's not here. She wasn't here when I brought you back, she ran in at about 3 or 4, grabbed some clothes, wrote a note for you, and left. She didn't even know you were gone." He said, a proud smile plastered across his face. For a moment, if only a moment, I felt sad, forgotten, she hadn't even come in to check on me. But my forlorn mood was short lived.

Patrick put his hand to my face, my hair, sweeping it behind my ear. I swallowed hard.

"Yea, well," I stuttered embarrassment seizing my thought process for words, an odd emotion for me. "I'm going to go shower then," I said, again gesturing absurdly with my thumb. Patrick looked amused as he watched me stumble backwards and grab some random clothes off of the ground.

I slipped out the door and walked quickly down the hall. The floorboards squeaked beneath me as I pushed against the bathroom door. The cool tile was welcoming to my overheated body. I stepped to the window and opened it, the heavy perfumes of neighboring flowers wafted in with the warm breeze.

I turned on the water in the shower and let it run, I watched as steam formed and rolled out the window. I hopped onto the counter and let my legs swing back and forth. I looked down to my legs and remembered the sensation that I had felt as Patrick laid his hand against them.

I was slightly befuddled. I had no idea what was happening with this boy I had just met. I knew that there was _something_ sparking between us. I had the same bubbly feeling in the pit of my stomach, the center of my rib cage, as I had had with all the guys I had ever liked; though this was odd in its differences. The rhythm matched my heartbeat and the intensity was like something I had never felt before.

I pushed off the slick counter and stripped off my clothes stepping into the boiling water which gushed against my back. I immediately straightened up and grit my teeth; I could still smell the aroma of spring's gifts.

My mind wandered back to the complexity of relationships and the confusion of the relationship between Patrick and myself. Was it any different than the way I felt towards James?

Should it be?

It should, right? I thought as I stepped out of the shower.

It should because I just met Patrick, but I have known James forever. But then again, James was just, _is_ just some silly long term unrequited crush. So what is Patrick?

I toweled off and looked at the clothing I had picked. A sun-dress, shorts, a button up shirt, under garments, a jacket, was there no possibility of me being at least somewhat more precise with the clothing I had grabbed?

I quickly surveyed and decided on what to wear. I figured that I rarely wore dresses around James and, why should I around Patrick. But then again, what I had with Patrick _could _be completely different than what I have with James. I pushed my hand through my hair and then rolled my eyes at myself. I was over analyzing this.

I pulled the under garments, shorts and button down t-shirt on. Smoothing out the wrinkles I looked myself in the mirror. Staring at my own imperfections in the mirror was hard even though the all too expensive clothes fit well enough. I toweled my hair once again before running a brush through it and blow drying. It came out straight, waving slightly at the ends. I brushed some powder over my face, eye shadow, mascara, and blush, and then walked out of the room, towel already hung over the towel rack and old clothes in hand, headed back to my room.

The door was propped open barely, I let myself stand idly, observing. Patrick sat in my desk chair, absently staring out the window. Though shrouded in darkness, he was beautiful. I dearly wanted him to move into the light, I had only ever seen him at night, lit only by glimmering moonlight. But to see his featured more clearly in the day's sun were enough to wish for. Without turning, he spoke to me.

"You can come in, it is your room." I could hear the smile behind his voice, and I could see it once he swiveled to face me. His perfect teeth glinted. I took a few steps forward, entering my room. I felt _his_ eyes skim me and my outfit; I reached my right arm across my abdomen and grabbed my left elbow.

"So…" the word was so bland, void of any type of connotation or inference.

"So…" he repeated back to me in the same way.

I took easy steps to my bed, letting myself collapse against it. I sucked in air to my cheeks and then blew it out obnoxiously loud. I closed my eyes.

"Would you like to do something today?" Patrick's voice was almost nervous, a small smile flicked across my face, at the thought of this. He seemed so confident, listening to him like this, though I had known him a span of a mere 48 hours, was so different. The quiver in his voice, it was like pulling back the sheer curtain that acted as a façade.

I had the temptation to push this moment to the brink of all awkwardness and say the all too cliché line of 'like a date?' But I was too afraid to ruin the moment, or to mesh it against the reality which could quite possibly be, a _date_ that he was asking for.

I sat up, opened my eyes and ran a hand through my hair. Gleaming crimson orbs met my own eyes. The length of my room separated us, and at that moment I felt as if I was strung upon a golden thread, being pulled across the room to him. But then again, maybe it was just because I could tell, we were meant to be. It was no freak accident, our meeting, we were meant to meet and meant to be together, whatever the terms of relationship might be.

**I really hope that this will be the shortest chapter that I ever write for this story, yet, I cant make any promises, the next chapter should be quite interesting and I will update once I get a fair number of reviews! I just have to decide what that is, seeing as this chapter sort of stunk.**

**-Mel (alwayssmile877)**


	7. First Passion

**Okay, I have been absolutely SWAMPED with work. I've had about 4 of the project that your teachers assign at the beginning of the semester and are the type that really shouldn't be procrastinated in doing. But here is your update! This is going to be the last update until I get back from summer camp, which will be in August, you can expect an update around August 15****th****. But don't worry the updates will be flowing in like crazy after that, because while at camp I will be finishing this story, 'When The End Comes' (I know that I haven't updated that in like 2 months, oops), and I am also planning on writing another story, which you can hear more about at the bottom of this chapter!**

**Disclaimer- I do NOT own Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, or any of Stephenie Meyer's amazing ideas!**

My footsteps were slow; easy, but nervous. We walked in a valley, between foothills. We were far from any humans, and definitely from New York. I kept my eyes turned down, abashed. The long grass that reached up to tickle my knees was lit my small prisms of light bouncing off of Patrick's skin.

He had pulled me onto his back while we had been standing in my room. Before we had left he had warned me about how his skin _supposedly_ sparkled in the sun, for this was his first time seeing his skin as it was. A small, giddy laugh escaped my mouth as I realized how strange it must be to see his self as he was, and how hard he must be trying to keep his 'cool'.

"What is it?" his words permeated the still air, which earlier had been pierced only by my laughter since we had arrived.

"Nothing." I said brushing off the idea as we both stopped walking. Patrick took one of my hands in his. The skin that touched my own surprised me. I expected to feel each small object embedded into his skin that was causing the glittering, but I wasn't met by a rough, sandpaper like palm; instead it felt similar to my own overly moisturized one, but still cold, even in the warmth of the sun.

"Now, what were you laughing about." He asked a second time. His shimmering face mixed with the crimson of his eyes was mystical and mythical.

"Just about how silly it is that we are taking so much time on this beautiful day to talk about my two-second laugh." I smiled at my sarcasm.

"I _know_ that _that_ is a lie." Patrick stated, grinning while lightly caressing my hand under his own. My eyes moved to his teeth, still, I was surprised by the lack of fangs. I momentarily wondered if the inside of his mouth sparkled the way the rest of his skin did. "And the reason we are talking about your small bout of laughter," he continued, "Is because it was too exquisite to forget so quickly."

I looked down once more, abashed again; his words were ever so rapidly taking a wrecking ball to the wall I had built around my heart. Yet, for a few miniscule seconds, I worried. Was that all it took to win me over, a few superficial compliments?

"Were you this charming when you were human?" half mocking, but at the same time inquisitive. A solemnity rested upon us in the perfect day.

"No," he answered thoughtfully, "But this is my second chance, and anyways, none of the girls where I was when I was human were worthy of my charm." Patrick ended the sentence almost cockily but still breathtakingly indefectible.

He took my other hand and I pivoted my body so that I stood directly across from him. He lowered his head close to mine. I let my breathing stop, not out of fear or excitement, but because I worried about its smell. He rested his forehead against my own, our noses almost touching. I grit my jaw at the movie like scene we were creating.

He moved his lips closer to mine. Worry grew deep in my eyes. No, I thought to myself. Don't let me fuck this up just yet. I broke his grip around my wrists and skipped away, trying to play the action off as a playful flirty move.

A wave of relief that pushed itself across my body like a cold gust of wind rolled down my spine. I let myself drop to my knees, a grin on my face now that I had averted that moment.

Patrick moved in a blur to my side, and I felt as he encircled his arms around my waist, myself fall back, almost into his arms.

"Finally, now, try and get away." He said jokingly. I reached my hand up ad covered his mouth.

"First off, I think you should ask permission to…kiss me, and secondly, the answer is no." I smiled. He looked chagrinned. Letting me go, he rolled over onto his back and I did the same onto mine. The long grass covered us completely, I knew I should worry about ticks, but I was too blissful.

Only a few pieces of grass cropped up between us, those we hadn't managed to crush.

"So, tell me about yourself." I said hating the silence that, however beautiful the scene, still had me unnerved. "What's it like to be a vampire?"

I closed my eyes now, to focus solely on his voice.

"It's…different; great and horrible all at the same time. Like I have so much power. But that's also what's horrible. I can never go back to my family."

A long pause, in which each of our thoughts drifted to family, separated his next words.

"The sparkling is kinda cool. But the feeding…"

"What about it?" I asked, confused, forgetting exactly what we were talking about.

"I have to kill people." He said almost pessimistically, bitter at the thought.

"Yes, but you _have_ to." I said, and then quieter. "Not everyone _has_ to, they just do." I heard a rustle from him, and felt his eyes resting upon my head. Once more we were both silent.

"Most vampires don't settle down in one place." Patrick said. "It's too hard, complications like the one Lila had often occur if they do."

"right." I said vacantly, I watched as a leaf tumbled through the air, pushed by the wind.

"Some of us have…powers." I thought over his words, possibilities of what he meant, running through my head.

"Do you have one?" I asked. An immediate answer escaped his mouth.

"No."

"Does Lila?"

"Yes."

"Well," I paused, his voice still lingering with me. "What is it?"

"Do you remember last night when she touched you, how you fell asleep?" I nodded. "That's her power she can grant sleep."

"Remember how I couldn't fall asleep that first night, when I went to meet her, she let me sleep, she also explained that vampires can't sleep naturally, that's why her gift is so valued."

"Can she grant herself sleep?" I couldn't imagine never sleeping again.

"No." I heard a rustle from him, I turned my head. Patrick had moved the few segments of grass from between us. He rested on his elbow, staring at me. I reached up a lightly rested my hand against his hair. He smiled. I worked my fingers through it.

He rolled over, on top of me. His weight was almost comforting. I rolled over him as well. I sat up, straddling his chest and I was reminded of 'The Lion King' where Simba and Nala are young and they tumble over each other as we had.

"You're smile is so beautiful." He said. I looked at him, really _looked_ at him; his features, his hair, smile, and eyes. The deep crimson scarlet, so unique. Almost as if a bolt of lightning had illuminated the sky only for it to go dark once more, his eyes quickly deepened in color.

He moved to sit up. I scooted down so that I rested on his legs. The silence now didn't seem so pressing and awkward. He brushed a few wisps of hair back that were not yet long enough to reach my ears. His hand rested at my face, my skin burned hot under his ice like hand.

He inclined his head to mine. And though I had pleaded _not_ to let this happen before I now begged for it to happen, I wanted this kiss. I wanted to embrace him to me, to have him hold me close. My body pressed against his own, in a moment that would be wonderfully, blissfully, perfect.

And then he did. His lips met mine and crashed against each others like the surf of the ocean against the white sands of a beach. I ran my hands down his arms, which wrapped around my waist. Under his shirt his body was hard, smooth, like a stone. I let my hands wander back to his head and I pulled him to me as close as I could. 

Perhaps losing everything in this moment of passion would be okay. My reasoning for not wanting this was lost. This was too great. Beyond every expectation. I felt right. I was supposed to be here. Like I had said before, I was a strong believer in fate. But I knew that if I believed that, I would have to reckon with myself, about everything, that that everything that had happened was supposed to. And I just couldn't justify that to myself. So would I be able to leave him before everything went wrong?

**Yes, I know, I have not been doing well with continuing to make my chapters longer. But anyhow, PLEASE REVIEW!! I will love you forever if you do! You can go to my profile to see more about the story that will be coming once I arrive home from camp!**

**-Mel (alwayssmile877)**


	8. Caught

**Wow I haven't written in eons, and there is a very long story behind that, but I'm sure that barely any of you care. If you do want to hear it, you can PM me, this is short but I just wanted to make sure you knew I was still alive. I actually have this story completely planned out now, and it looks to be VERY good, and also I know have a deadline to finish it by, so hopefully it will be updated more often.**

The last day of school pounded in my ears, my heart. My last day of high school, and yet I wasn't excited about that. What my heart truly yearned for was a single boy. Though I hadn't an idea to where he was, perhaps running through some forest. Maybe not even in the state. At his house? At mine?

My eyes had somewhat glazed, we had had finals all week, I hadn't even had to go to school yesterday, for me only having 5 periods, the finals had been for 6th and 7th. Today, Friday, was reserved just for saying goodbye, yearbook signing, and to take advantage of those last minutes of being a senior.

"Kira!" James said, his seat was kitty-corner to mine in our homeroom. I snapped out of my trance.

"Yea," I said looking at him, his tan features, brown eyes.

His eyes locked with mine, taking in the lack of caring, he sighed, an almost imperceptible shake of his head, before he turned away again. The classroom pulsated around me in everyone's anticipation, every few seconds someone would shout out '3 minutes left!' or something of the sort.

I let my eyes drift back to my portfolio from the year, full of assessments that we didn't get until now. What all of my teachers thought of me, my strengths, weaknesses, the things that you though you could hide, but could be found.

Gah! It seemed recently I was trying to find meaning in everything, everything seemed so important.

The chants of everyone in the background lifted me from my haze.

10

Patrick was all I was thinking about lately

9

8

What did that mean?

7

6

Was it just the excitement of first love, or was he the…

5

4

3

2

One?

1

I sprung from my seat, the cheers erupted from around me. I had imagined this day so many times, I had seen myself hugging my friends, saying goodbye to my teachers, going to a party.

I had never had the slightest inkling that I would hurry from the school without saying goodbye to anyone, rush to my car, and hop in to find the one guy who could stop my heart, literally.

I was sure that my eyes sparkled, I could see my reflection in his purple ones, the blue contacts shielding their true red. I was parked under a tree, where the sunlight couldn't touch his skin. He laced his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him, our chests pressed together. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he pulled me into his lap in the passenger seat. I felt a blush rise on my cheeks at the idea of anyone seeing us, before I remembered I was locked in a car.

He pressed his lips to mine and the marble cold of them slid across my warm and malleable ones. He tasted so perfect, his smell entranced me.

"So," he said pulling his head away swiftly. "How does it feel to be a high school graduate?"

Before I could answer him, a knock resounded against the window. A chill shot up my spine.

Caught.

Shit, what was I going to say, 'oh, I'm just making out with my vampire boyfriend.'

As if Patrick could read the horror in my face he pushed my hair behind my ear and said,

"It's okay, he doesn't know who I am, just make something up." I scooted off of Patrick's lap and embarrassedly rolled down my window. I could see James' brow furrowed, a deep crease split his forehead.

"Hey," I said breathily.

"Hey," his tone was stern. "You're coming to the graduation party tonight at Casey's, right?" his tone lacked inflection and he was deliberately ignoring what he had just seen.

"I, um, I don't think I'm going to go…" my sentence trailed off for lack of an excuse.

"Why not?" he sounded irritated and I saw his eyes shoot an almost imperceptible dagger at Patrick.

"Well, its just, I don't know…"I nervously reached to scratch behind my ear.

"This might be the last time you ever see these people Kira, just please go." I was startled by his sudden caring his need in his voice, his eyes reminded me of a sorrowful puppy.

"Yeah, I guess, um, when is it again?"

"It's at eight, I'll just drive you there from graduation, so you should bring some extra clothes."

"Great, thanks."

"See ya Kira," he gave a silent nod to Patrick. I sat back in my seat and stuck the key in the ignition.

"Um should you, um, sit in the back or something, I mean so the light doesn't get on you?"

"Yea, that would probably be smart," he slipped back into the rear of my car. We drove in silence.

As we arrived back to my house and I pulled into the garage, he stepped out. He opened my door and took my hand pulling me out. We stood till for a moment in the dark.

"He means a lot to you doesn't he, James?" Patrick was calm, his voice soothing.

"Yes," I said staring at Patrick straight in the eye.

"You mean a lot to him as well." This was a statement.

A lot of Patrick and my conversations were this way, questions, answers and statements. I was confused as to what we were, were we boyfriend and girlfriend? We were physical, and he was there for me. What else did there need to be to constitute a relationship?

**Like I said, short, but there's a lot of good stuff to come! It would make my day if you commented! Next update will be here by October 4****th**

**-Mel (alwayssmile877)**


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